The Rose Bower

I have a rose bower
where the flowers always bloom,
The sweet scent calls me home.

There, I bask in majesty,
His head is crowned in light.
The silence of friends between us,
or a gentle whisper under birdsong.

We sit and enjoy the company,
He laughs as soft as new snow,
as we reminisce over missed
callings.

Once love drunk, now I quietly sit
under rose perfume, looking fondly
into the endless depths of sweet,
sunlit eyes.

I have a rose bower
where the flowers always bloom.
The sweet scent calls me home.